In a dog's life   A year is really more like seven   And all too soon a canine   Will be chasing cars in doggie heaven      It seems to me   As we make our own few circles 'round the sun   We get it backwards   And our seven years go by like one      Dog years - It's the season of the itch   Dog years - With every scratch it reappears      In the dog days   People look to Sirius   Dogs cry for the moon   But those connections are mysterious      It seems to me    While it's true that every dog will have his day   When all the bones are buried   There's barely time to go outside and play      Dog years - It's the season of the itch   Dog years - With every scratch it reappears   Dog years - For every sad son of a bitch   Dog years - With his tail between his ears      I'd rather be a tortoise from Galapagos   Or a span of geological time   I'd rather be a tortoise from Galapagos   Or a span of geological time   Than be living in these dog years      In a dog's brain    A constant buzz of low-level static   One sniff at the hydrant   And the answer is automatic      It seems to me   As we make our first few circles 'round the block   We've lost our senses   For the higher level static of talk      Dog years - For every sad son of a bitch   Dog years - With his tail between his years      In the dog years...   In the dog years...   In the dog years...   In the dog years...      In the dog years...